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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29112435">10,000 Little Love Letters</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/conconstella/pseuds/conconstella'>conconstella</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(semi), Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Doomed Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Love Letters, M/M, Romantic Soulmates, Shinguji Korekiyo's Sister Being an Asshole, Slow Burn, Soulmates, Unhappy Ending, just two dudes slowly falling in love through letters, of sorts, rantaro's dad sucks</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 04:07:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>11,075</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29112435</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/conconstella/pseuds/conconstella</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>an amaguji-centric fic in which your soulmate sends you a letter every day until you meet~</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Amami Rantaro/Shinguji Korekiyo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>85</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. ~ a day in the life of korekiyo shinguji ~</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>the calming yet gentle aura of an early morning.</p><p>or -- the pitch black of the fading night, if you're korekiyo shinguji.</p><p>no one in their right mind would wake up so early; however, korekiyo had a routine that needed to be followed. plus, the mornings were peaceful. the dark of the night fading into bright, pastel colors as the boy works on tidying up his uniform. as he spends hours on the appearance he works <em>so hard</em> to maintain.</p><p>in all honesty, he'd rather be in bed. the sheets were warm, a sense of comfort he could never get from anyone else. of course, the bed was painful to lie on, but that's not what mattered. he was lucky to have a bed, as his sister so often reminded him.</p><p>korekiyo shinguji was lucky to be alive.</p><p>
  <em>but was he really?</em>
</p><p>no, he was told to be lucky by everyone around him. as if he should be fortunate that no one tossed him to the side of the road by the time he took his first breath.</p><p>korekiyo sighs, brushing through his stark black hair, watching it flow through the brush's bristles until not even a single knot remained. his vanity was littered with bright red lipsticks, eyeliner tubes, and many things to cover and improve his appearance. photo frames of him and his sister shattered or broken, the ones that weren't were x'd out with the exact same lipstick.</p><p>"i said i was sorry..." he mumbles, picking up one of the picture frames with his rough, bandaged hands. the emotion wasn't exactly sorry—more of an uneasy feeling.</p><p>next to all of the portraits laid a few scattered letters, all presumably sent to korekiyo by his soulmate.</p><p>the soulmate was a cheerful, socially awkward boy from what he had deducted. it was a surprise; gay soulmates was a rare occasion. a close friend of korekiyo's paired up with a hyper, energetic soulmate without even realizing he was anything but straight.</p><p>the tall boy sighs, running his hand over a letter that was sent yesterday. the handwriting was a mix of both very messy, yet neat and curly. his soulmate was quite a deep sleeper, letters often only being sent in the afternoon with a "good morning! :&gt;" scribbled inside of them. korekiyo wonders if he was a nuisance sending his so early in the morning.</p><p>yet, he picks up the pen and gets to writing.</p><p>
  <b>"to my dearest soulmate,"</b>
</p><p>
  <em>was that too much? maybe so.</em>
</p><p>
  <b>"apologies to be awaking you so early, but i wanted to check in. how have you been?"</b>
</p><p>he wipes a strand of hair out of his eyes, already growing frustrated as he attempts to write a formal message. korekiyo wasn't the best with conversations, and it showed.</p><p>
  <b>"i'm hoping it's well... the morning is quite beautiful, though i observed that you enjoy to sleep in."</b>
</p><p>
  <em>creep.</em>
</p><p>
  <b>"not in an odd way."</b>
</p><p>
  <em>because that helped. great job, genius.</em>
</p><p>
  <b>"the sunrise was gorgeous today... maybe try taking a close look at it one day? the colors are always bright and vivid... it makes a nice sight as i get ready. and... i could use something to calm my nerves today. school is starting up today, and--"</b>
</p><p>
  <em>seriously? talking about your problems. get it together.</em>
</p><p>
  <b>"...apologies. that doesn't matter. i'm aware that many schools start again today, so i hope that your first day treats you well."</b>
</p><p>the boy stares at the bottom of the page, empty and white. waiting eagerly for black ink to be scrawled nervously against it. although there were no words that came to mind.</p><p>sincerely? <em>too formal.</em></p><p>best regards? <em>lame.</em></p><p>love?<em> too fast.</em></p><p>
  <b>"- your soulmate."</b>
</p><p>perfect.</p><p>a soft sigh leaves his lips, folding the letter away neatly into an envelope, dumping it into a small box by his bed. the soulmate in question would see it soon enough, he hoped.</p><p>hoped... prayed even.</p><p>there was actually no way to tell if your soulmate was still alive the next day or not. it was a rare occurrence, though a real one. one of his classmates, a short boy with the name of ryoma, had lost his soulmate. he had only realized once no letters came back to him, and none of his letters had been read.</p><p>and some personal conversations had been exchanged between both of them.</p><p>the soulmate often talking about how he had bad anxiety, bad thoughts, a difficult home life, etcetera. it was only natural for korekiyo to worry. though, he was sure there was some worrying on the other end.</p><p>worries started to cloud his mind until he was disrupted by a small chime.</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>your message has been read!</em>
  </strong>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. ~rantaro amami despises mornings~</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>ping!</em>
</p><p>rantaro amami was awake, much to his chagrin.</p><p>though, a letter from the supposed "love of his life" was a nice way to wake up.</p><p>he stretches, brushing fluffy and unkempt green hair from his eyes. this morning started a bit earlier than it usually did, but school had started up again. rantaro debates skipping his classes, but the new letter that laid unread by his bedside table proves to be a reminder to continue going to class.</p><p>maybe, just maybe, he'll find the right person.</p><p>it was silly, the green-haired boy never considered himself romantic in any sense. he used to stuff away the letters in crevices of his room, confused and annoyed that he even had a soulmate. that the boyfriends he used to have weren't his soulmates, that he hadn't even met them. that he may <em>never</em> find them.</p><p>however, time went by, and he could find himself falling deeper and deeper in love. writing letters as often as he could, putting them in an important box to reread when they couldn't talk together at that moment, spending hours dreaming... it was uncalled for.</p><p>rantaro slips on an oversized band shirt, tucking it into a pair of jeans and tossing a large jacket over it. he puts on large boots, decorating the rest of the outfit with a variety of jewels and accessories. ridiculous, but nice enough to look cool. the boots clink softly against the hardwood floor, making their way over to the windowsill where a small paper envelope rests. the boy runs a ringed finger over the paper, admiring the delicacy of the packaging; taking a small mental note of the wax stamp that's placed in the middle of the envelope flap to make it appear more official. </p><p>he opens it, reading over the note.</p><p>a small symphony of giggles mixed with paper crinkling and moving fills the room, rantaro almost immediately starting to write as he sets the letter gently down by his desk.</p><p>
  <b>"hey!"</b>
</p><p>
  <em>nowhere near as official as his soulmate.</em>
</p><p>
  <b>"i got your letter! yea, i'm starting school today. in case you couldn't tell by how early i woke up today, robbed of my slumber once again. i kinda fucking despise mornings."</b>
</p><p>he clinks the pen against the table, clicking his tongue.</p><p><em>was fuck too rude for someone this formal? </em>rantaro sighs, scribbling it out.</p><p>
  <b>"whoops. don't mind that. you sound like a librarian, i feel bad for saying fuck--"</b>
</p><p>he crosses it out.</p><p>
  <b>"...for cursing in front of you. maybe you are a librarian, that would be cool! the environment of libraries are nice. the only sound of pages flipping, pen against paper, the smell of old books and covers. and... if you were actually a librarian, you'd be mad that i'm talking so much lol."</b>
</p><p>the clock ticks away, sunlight creeping more and more onto the floor of rantaro amami's bedroom. soft bustling of his sisters as they start to wake up and get ready.</p><p>
  <b>"these are kind of like love letters, actually! isn't that so romantic? not that i'd quite know anything about romance... but i'd say that these are really sweet! that might just be me... who knows. maybe i'll surprise you with a romantic letter one day!"</b>
</p><p>"romantic, hm?" rantaro whispers, chuckling softly and picking up the pen again.</p><p>
  <b>"xoxo, soulmate."</b>
</p><p>the boy giggles, putting it away for his soulmate in a small box. he eagerly waits for the small chime, a little message telling him that he can stop worrying. that his soulmate is reading his message.</p><p>...</p><p>............</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>delivered.</em>
  </b>
</p><p>a soft sigh leaves his lips, laying on top of the messy, undone bed. ignored knocks from the other side of the door. spots and chores around the room that haven't been finished taunt him as silence fills the air.</p><p>"...left on delivered, hm?"</p><p>rantaro amami frowns, grabbing his bag and leaving the room, going downstairs to meet his sisters.</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>your message has been read!</em>
  </strong>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. ~a sort of-kind of-totally fucked up system~</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>!korekiyo POV!</b>
</p><p>humanity was beautiful, even like this.</p><p>even when the concept of "humanity" was trying to squeeze past hundreds of people huddled up into one narrow hallway. when the only light was the faint, buzzing yellow light that shone down from the school's ceiling. and when the bustling, loud voices of fellow students grows so loud you can barely hear your own thoughts.</p><p>though, it's not like my thoughts were very important at a time like this.</p><p>i kept thinking back to my soulmate, and his endearing response to one of my -- a little too early, letters. how it felt so casual, yet sweet. how the writing curled and fluctuated. it was quite obvious that the boy was either in a rush or very, very tired. maybe a mix of both? one could only wonder. wonder what went on in the brilliant mind of someone i haven't even met yet. or how he looked and acted when he was tired. perhaps his hair was long like mine? or maybe it was short and perky... oh, how i longed to run my hands through it.</p><p>the whole soulmate thing was an odd concept. one of the most beautiful, yet disgusting parts of humanity all at once.</p><p>everyone was apart of a system, whether they desired to or not. each member will be given envelopes and a small app on your phone. you write your letter, and leave it out in a box until a small chime appears saying that the other received it. and then you await your letter -- that is if your soulmate even bothers.</p><p>cute... yet terrifying.</p><p>terrifying that there may never be a response. terrifying you're doomed to be alone. that they dislike you. that they're dangerous. that they never respond again, and you get the final notification.</p><p>
  <em>this recipient is no longer active.</em>
</p><p>the chime was different than others. i knew this well. it was a normal day in my classes when a bell rung. it sounded more like a gong, ringing loudly throughout the class; maybe even the entire school. it was until ryoma had picked up his phone, looking down at it and reading over the dark red text.</p><p>
  <em>this recipient is no longer active.</em>
</p><p>i would be lying if i said i didn't worry about my soulmate.</p><p>i run my slender fingers against the cold metal of my locker -- a reminder that yes, korekiyo shinguji is here. he's okay. he's alive.</p><p>a soft sigh escapes my lips, stashing books and binders neatly away. a stark contrast to others who had simply shoved away piles of papers; a mix of burnt cigarretes, paper, and notebooks littering the hallway floor. i zone out, and before i know it, my binder had joined the plethora of school supplies. except -- of course, just my luck -- it fell at the feet of one of my peers.</p><p>a gentle looking boy stares down at the binder, a face mixed with confusion and shock. he had fluffy, green hair and the emerald eyes to match. he was surrounded by a group of what i assumed to be his friends. an average height woman with long, strawberry blonde hair and a foul mouth, as well as a shorter boy with dark purple hair that faded lightly at the tips.</p><p>oh god, he's <em>popular.</em></p><p>"a-apologies..." i stutter. <em>even better, i just stuttered in front of an attractive, popular boy.</em></p><p>he chuckles; a sweet sound, i note -- and picks up the binder, placing it in my hands.</p><p>"no worries!" he gives me a warm smile, starting to speak. "sorry, i must've scared you a little."</p><p>"i just seem to be on edge... thank you for returning my binder."</p><p>"haha, i'd have to say the same. school can be--"</p><p>"raro!!" the shorter boy butts in. <em>raro? </em>"don't give me that bullshit! you're having soulmate problems!~"</p><p>"i-i am not--!!"</p><p>"you fuckin' are!!" the girl interrupts as well. <em>jeez, can this man get a word in? </em>"now c'mon! ya had your time talking to this edgy shitlord, we gotta go!!"</p><p>
  <em>i don't think i like those two very much.</em>
</p><p>"well, good luck to you! i hope your anxiety cle-- FUCK--"</p><p>and before i knew it, the green-haired boy had vanished.</p><p>"wait... raro?"</p><p>i sat there, unanswered. my question slowly fading away into the clutter of noise, until it had become nothing but a whisper of the past.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. ~an unbearable, lonely kind of love~</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>!rantaro POV!</b>
</p><p>"viraha."</p><p>i sigh, already quite confused. class just started, and yet i'm lost.</p><p>"a hindi word used to describe love created from separation."</p><p>the teacher scribbles it down on the whiteboard, soft squeaking from the marker filling the classroom. she doodles small hearts around it, a cheesy touch to an already cheesy word. and <em>love from separation. </em>possibly the saddest kind of love. a longing kind of love, where all you want is to be held by someone. to feel someone. to feel <em>something.</em></p><p>the unbearable, lonely kind of love.</p><p>the love i knew all too well.</p><p>i recall back to this morning, and how my soulmate never responded to my message. i was hoping, praying he was okay. that he's enjoying his classes, and meeting new people, and studying well. i'm sure he's alright -- it's just nerves. who knows? maybe he got bored of me. maybe i'll find someone here. who said i have to end up with my soulmate anyways?</p><p>i feel a sharp pain on the back of my head, looking down to see a small, crumpled piece of paper on the ground. i pick it up, reading over the familiar handwriting.</p><p>
  <em>"ur hopelessly gay. we can all tell ~"</em>
</p><p>i roll my eyes, scribbling down a few vulgarities, tossing it back at kokichi. he raises an eyebrow, writing back. rather than tossing it to me, however; he tosses it at miu.</p><p>"amami."</p><p>the classroom goes dead silent, the only sound being the soft paper crumpling as miu stuffs it in her pocket. </p><p>"yes... miss?"</p><p>she gestures me to go outside of the class. and of course, all eyes are on me; the awkward tension stabbing me like needles. i run my hands through my hair, fluffing it up a bit as i walk into the familiar hallway. i could hear soft bustling of the other classes, the squeak of my shoes against the linoleum floors. slumping against my locker, i put in my headphones. the soft music fills my ears, a shuffled assortment of everything i adored.</p><p>
  <em>take a look around the room...</em>
</p><p>music was my love language. music and little notes. maybe that's why the soulmate thing was so popular?</p><p>
  <em>love comes wearing disguises.</em>
</p><p>i never really understood why soulmates were so popular. why they must stay anonymous... </p><p>
  <em>how to go about and choose?</em>
</p><p>i close my eyes. the hallway is near silent, soft squeaking and footsteps being overcome by the melody.</p><p>
  <em>break it down by shapes and sizes.</em>
</p><p>the footsteps grow closer. almost an intimidating feeling. i close my eyes tighter, blocking out the excessive noise that rings throughout the corridor.</p><p>
  <em>i'm a man who's got very specific taste.<br/></em>
</p><p>"raro?"</p><p>i open my eyes, looking up to the same, mysterious man i had seen earlier. his hair was like twilight, swishing gently around his curves. bright, amber eyes meet mine; a stark contrast to his light skin tone. like a small porcelain doll. he towers over me, however, his presence isn't scary, rather welcoming and kind. </p><p>"...raro?"</p><p>
  <em>you're just my type.</em>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. ~ introductions are overrated ~</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>! korekiyo POV !</b>
</p><p>"raro?" the boy tilts his head, letting fluffy, green locks fall to the side. "do you mean rantaro? or did kokichi finally get that extra foot of height he wanted?"</p><p>"a-apologies. you are the boy i met in the hall, yes? i simply never caught your name."</p><p>met was a nice way of putting it. i totally didn't embarrass myself in front of this very attractive boy and his popular friends. hell, i wouldn't be surprised if he was judging me. though... he didn't look like the type. he looked warm and soft, with a soft jawline and chubby cheeks dusted with freckles. with big, soft hair that fell around his gentle eyes. and big clothes that fell so nicely off and around his slender form. and that godforsaken doofus smile.</p><p>he was the exact opposite of me. bony, scarred hands that needed to be concealed, along with the rest of my pale and lanky body. long hair that needed to be cared for all the time. because god forbid it was tangled or oily. scary, hallow eyes that no one dared to meet with theirs. and yet here was this sweet boy, looking up at them with wonder.</p><p>"oh! yes, that's me! introductions are overrated anyways." he holds out his hand, most likely gesturing to shake it. i reach out to him, and he firmly squeezes and shakes my hand.</p><p>"do... i not scare you?"</p><p>"not at all!! cmon, sit? i got kicked out of class and could use some company."</p><p>i sit next to him, the mix of a local air vent above my head and the cold, barren floors of the hallway sending chills throughout my body. i <em>despised </em>being cold. i hated the chills that reminded me of her touch. her gentle, disgusting touch that trailed up and down my skin. her touch that felt so cold. so distant. i hug myself tightly, trembling and desperately trying to warm myself up. to get this feeling to go away.</p><p>"do you want my jacket?"</p><p>"ah?"</p><p>the shorter boy holds out a jacket, the large sleeves making it seem extra cuddly. his face holds a twinge of worry, but his eyes remain kind.</p><p>"you look cold." he gently wraps it around me, his hands lightly brushing across my back. a feeling that would normally panic me calms me down. they were so warm, so soft... so comforting. "thought i could help out."</p><p>"thank you... but it is yours..."</p><p>"keep it. that is, if you'd like to!"</p><p>the jacket was lovely... it felt like a big hug, calming and cozy. it smelled like the boy too, a hint of honey lavender mixed with the fabric detergent. it was a letterman jacket, with a light blue and grey color scheme that matched his shirt. on the back was a large "amami", what i assumed was the boy's last name.</p><p>"amami...? that.. is a lovely last name."</p><p>"oh, thank you! you are...?"</p><p>"shinguji. korekiyo shinguji is my name."</p><p>"well, kiyo-chan!" <em>kiyo-chan?  </em>"wanna be friends? you seem like a chill dude!"</p><p>hardly.</p><p>i wrap the jacket more around myself, being comforted by it's presence. i reach into my own pocket, pulling out a small locket from inside of it. it was a shiny gold, cold and smooth to the touch. one of my most prized possessions.</p><p>and yet, i hold it out to the boy.</p><p>"a gift. in response to the jacket and the friendship... this is what friends do, yes?"</p><p>"they do sometimes! it's gorgeous... are you sure?"</p><p>i gently clasp it around his neck, letting the charm dangle across his sharp collarbone.</p><p>"but of course. its only fair."</p><p>the boy reaches out for a hug, but gets interrupted by a loud ringing throughout the halls.</p><p>"ah, damn. the bell. i'll talk later kiyo-chan!!"</p><p>"wait-"</p><p>and like that, the boy had vanished.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. ~ peace at long last ~</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>! korekiyo POV !</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>kiyo-chan.</em>
</p><p>i walk home, staring down at my own feet as i always did. always avoiding eye contact, avoiding the stares, avoiding the insults. it didn't make them go away, but it helped.</p><p>the city lights beam upon me, i can imagine giving me a look that a killer may have. where the shadow casts across your entire face, leaving your eyes to do the talking. and unfortunately, my eyes weren't kind. they were that of a killer's, all of me was.</p><p>korekiyo shinguji is a killer.</p><p>a disgusting human being that others despised and feared.</p><p>every eye that met mine was afraid. as i took the sickle and grew closer, their eyes widened. every innocent woman that was taken too soon. a case that ended up on the news and made others cry, her friends cry, her family cry, made <em>me</em> cry. though, i don't deserve to weep for the dead.</p><p>in my hands rested a notebook, leather and worn. the pages blood-stained, tear-stained. and inside were tally marks.</p><p>
  <em>5... 10... 15...</em>
</p><p>i still remember them well.</p><p>
  <em>30... 35... 40...</em>
</p><p>every victim was trembling, crying, and yelling until their voice ran dry. <em>begging</em> me to put the weapon down.</p><p>
  <em>55... 60... 65...</em>
</p><p>many had families, and it burdened me. i know what it was like to lose someone... though there must be love in the victim's family. for me, i could never say the same.</p><p>and yet.</p><p>
  <em>75... 80... 85...</em>
</p><p>i did it all for her. this isn't my life to choose. it's hers. hers, hers, hers, hers.</p><p>
  <em>90... 95... 99.</em>
</p><p>one more. one more is all she asks, and then i can finally be at peace. a feeling i haven't felt in so long... except today.</p><p>today was different. the days were no longer dark and cold, rather bright and warm. the boy was so warm... peace and bliss at its core. i wrap the jacket tighter around myself, breathing slowly. it still smells like him and makes me feel bubbly inside. <em>he seems to rub off on me, is all. </em>the gesture was cute, giving me his jacket. to keep, no less. i fidget around in the pockets, warm and soft. like the feeling of holding someone's hand for the first time. however, my fingers run over a rough texture. i pull out a small paper, reading it softly to myself.</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>if lost, give it to rantaro ! (xxx-xxx)</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>i pause, stopping outside of my apartment and gazing down at the paper. should... i call him? would he like that? we are friends, after all.</p><p>i run my fingers over the paper, closing my eyes and breathing in the familiar scent of his jacket.</p><p>and the next thing i know, the phone is ringing.</p><p>...</p><p>......</p><p>..........</p><p>
  <em>"heya! its rantaro!"</em>
</p><p>shit.</p><p>"a-apologies! i got your number... from a classmate. i didn't get the time to ask."</p><p>yeah, smooth one.</p><p><em>"oh its kiyo-chan! glad you called me, i was pretty bored and wanted to talk to a friend." </em>he chuckles from the other side of the call, somehow just as melodic as it always is.</p><p>"ah... then i would be delighted to speak with you."</p><p>i turn the key, opening my door.</p><p>
  <em>"heh, i actually just wrote a letter to my soulmate! i hope he gets it..."</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>chime!</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>"what a coincidence, i just got one. i hope your soulmate gets your letter."</p><p><em>"oh awesome! imagine if we were soulmates--" </em>he pauses, <em>"not to assume you're into dudes or anything! i'm sorry!!"</em></p><p>i hear a familiar pair of footsteps behind me, a sign that my sister had come home.</p><p>"ah..."</p><p>
  <em>"...kiyo-chan? did i upset you?"</em>
</p><p>the footsteps grow closer and closer, making my head pound and my heart race.</p><p>
  <em>"...kiyo-chan?"</em>
</p><p>the footsteps grow even closer until i feel a terrifying presence towering over me, sending me over the edge and panicking me more.</p><p>"...i'm sorry."</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>call ended.</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>"...and i'm sorry to you too, sister."</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. ~breaking the soulmate rules~</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I PROMISE THERE'S FLUFF EVENTUALLY LOL,,,</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>! rantaro POV !</b>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <b>call ended.</b>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>oh...</em>
</p><p>
  <em>i guess he doesn't like me that much.</em>
</p><p>i sit down at my desk, reading over one of the new notes from my soulmate. he seems sweet. formal, but sweet at that. his writing was in gorgeous, stark black ink. mine were written in pencil. which wasn't terrible, i just didn't feel as good of a soulmate. a pencil, however, allows me to erase. no thoughts ping-ponging violently throughout my head. no scratching out stupid messages and endless rambles. a pencil gave second, third,<em> fourth </em>chances. in a way, it represented love itself. erase, redo, end the sentence.</p><p>
  <em>erase.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>redo.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>end.</em>
</p><p>it seemed like everything except for end, at this rate.</p><p>maybe i didn't give two shits. maybe i shouldn't bother for finding my soulmate, maybe i should just accept that as long as i love them, they're just as good.</p><p>sometimes soulmates aren't mutual.</p><p>maybe my soulmate doesn't give a shit either.</p><p>i click my pencil against the table. i miss kiyo~chan... he was sweet. i wanted to invite him over, talk a bit, become friends. i wonder how he's doing.</p><p>
  <em>god, i'm such a creep.</em>
</p><p>maybe it was the coffee and adhd medicine combined until words tumbled off my tongue. maybe i was desperate to find the one, true love that made me feel complete. or maybe, just maybe, i thought he was cute. </p><p>his hair was so gorgeous, and i wanted to spend my time brushing through out. just to say fuck this soulmate system, and that i love who i love. though, i ruined that all in one little phone call.</p><p>my soulmate must be really glad we can't call each other.</p><p>i pull out a small scrap of paper, anxiously scribbling down every thought. it felt like more of a diary entry than a love letter, but i still wanted to let everything out.</p><p>
  <b>"dear soulmate,"</b>
</p><p>
  <em>godi'msolamegodgodwhy--</em>
</p><p>
  <b>"i hope your first day was okay! mine was... well. pretty shitty."</b>
</p><p>my hands shake lightly, my writing growing more messy.</p><p>
  <b>"i fucked over one of my first friendships. lovely, isn't it? i'm not surprised. i've never been the best at making friends. but... he was different. the boy in question was dark and elegant, much smarter and lovelier than me. so, it hurts a lot."</b>
</p><p>"kiyo~chan..." i stutter out, looking down at my hands. "are... are you thinking about me, by chance?"</p><p>
  <b>"i can't stop thinking about him... he's so lovely..."</b>
</p><p>i pause for a moment, my head pounding and imploding upon himself. everything was so loud. everything was too much.</p><p>
  <b>"...i hope you don't hate me, but..."</b>
</p><p>
  <em>fuckfuckfuck!</em>
</p><p>
  <b>"i think i'm in love with someone else. other than you. i'm sorry... i'm sorry you had to be my soulmate."</b>
</p><p>i felt like pounds of weight lifted off of my shoulders. i didn't love my soulmate like i did with korekiyo. after all, how could you love someone you barely knew?</p><p>
  <b>"though, i doubt you loved me either. maybe we were never meant to be. maybe in another world, another timeline. i'm just not the guy who deserves a soulmate, i guess."</b>
</p><p>
  <em>i'm sorry...</em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <b>"&lt;3, soulmate"</b>
  </em>
</p><p>on impulse, i send the letter, falling back on my bed.</p><p>...</p><p>.......</p><p>wait.</p><p>
  <em>wait!</em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <b>delivered!</b>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>FUCK!</em>
</p><p>i, rantaro amami, am an asshole. i dumped my soulmate for someone who didn't even <em>like </em>me. who hung up on me mid-sentence. i bury my face in my fluffy pillow, trying to resist the urge to scream, or cry, or yell. my head was pounding and throbbing, tears falling down my face. i keep messing up every relationship in my life, every little thing seems to be impossible. with a shaky hand, i reach to my phone.</p><p>
  <em><b>rantaro &lt;3:</b> kiyo~chan?</em>
</p><p>
  <em><b>rantaro &lt;3:</b> please call me. i'm so sorry i need to talk to someone and i want to apologize</em>
  <em><br/>
</em>
</p><p>
  <em><b>rantaro &lt;3:</b> shinguji please.</em>
  <em><br/>
</em>
</p><p>
  <em>(read: 4:45 pm)</em>
</p><p>"i love you... call me, please..."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. ~love be damned~</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>! korekiyo POV !</b>
</p><p>
  <b>(!tw! ab-sive tendencies)</b>
</p><p>she stood over me, a looming presence. as if i was being watched, as if this was the last thing i'd ever see before death claims me. she creeps her hand towards me, grasping my phone and taking it away from me. her hands were ice cold, sharp and slender. they leave gross chills up my body, making me cringe and revolt away from her touch. and at that moment, i knew i had messed up.</p><p>she speaks, her voice so sickeningly sweet that it makes me disgusted. like nails against a chalkboard, ringing throughout my body and driving me mad. <em>disgusting, disgusting, disgusting.</em></p><p>"who was that, dear korekiyo?"</p><p>dear. don't call me that, god don't call me that. <em>dear. </em>such a beautiful phrase turned toxic by her voice. such a sweet phrase that makes me sick to my stomach when i hear it.</p><p>"i said..." she harshly digs her nails into my hand, marks and blood blisters forming at the touch. "who. was. <em>that.</em>"</p><p>"no one." my voice comes out stuttering and weak, trying to hide the pain she brings me. i've been through worse, after all. i should be eternally grateful she hasn't killed me from the start.</p><p>"you're lying. why would you lie to me? you love me, do you not."</p><p>
  <em>shut up.</em>
</p><p>"i love you."</p><p>
  <em>you make me sick.</em>
</p><p>"that's what i thought." she lets go of my hand, turning her attention to my phone. "now tell me... who is this amami you speak of? that you so <em>desperately</em> want to hide from me?"</p><p>"a classmate. no one special, just a classmate."</p><p>"then why, do tell, does he address you so informally? why he wants to call you so badly?"</p><p>"he... wants to call me?"</p><p>"i'm not finished."</p><p>i shut my mouth, holding my tongue. god... i felt terrible. i just wished to call him, to apologize for leaving him so soon. however, i knew this would mean worse for us in the future. i don't dare speak back now.</p><p>"first it was your soulmate, now this? you must hate me, brother..."</p><p>"no." i lie through my teeth. sister <em>hated </em>the soulmate system. she always told me i didn't deserve my soulmate... though, he cared for me, more than sister ever did. more than every time she'd tell me she was the only one who'd ever love me. the bruises, the tears...</p><p>"what happened to me and only me, huh?!"</p><p>
  <em>shut up! just shut up!!</em>
</p><p>"it's only you. always you and only you."</p><p>"that's what i thought." she hands my phone back, harshly shoving me. "don't bother me for the rest of the day, i'm upset."</p><p>"okay... promise."</p><p>she exits the room, the weight on my shoulders slowly slipping the room. my hands shake lightly, heading up the stairs and listening to the floorboards creak underneath me. our house was small and old, kind of a dump, as one might say. however, it's a heart that makes a home. and i guess that's why our house feels so cold and empty. me and my sister were heartless, cold beings left to rot in this world. hell, i'm surprised i had a soulmate in the first place.</p><p>speaking of...</p><p>i slip into my room, spotting a new letter and looking over it. the writing was nervous, shakier than usual and darker, as if the writer had been pushing on the lead to relieve stress. the paper was messy, writing scrawled all over it and disheveled.</p><p>...</p><p>.....</p><p>oh.</p><p>sister was right.</p><p>i didn't deserve my soulmate. no one would love me like she does. </p><p>i really was doomed to be hers. hers and only hers, always and forever. forever bound to her disgusting touch, the creeping, chilling feeling as she ran her hands up my skin. a curse bestowed on me since i was a child, the inescapable fate looming over me. <em>hers, hers, hers. </em>she was the only one who loves me, right? i should be thankful that she didn't give up on me, or kill me the minute i was born into this godforsaken planet.</p><p>i give my thanks to this hellhole of a life, and the person who made it so.</p><p>because that's what i deserve, no?</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. ~disappear~</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>! rantaro POV !</b>
</p><p>dumbass.</p><p>rantaro amami is a dumbass.</p><p>i push through the hallway of my school, keeping my gaze down. i hold a couple of the letters from my soulmate to my chest, contemplating what to do with them. burn them, perhaps? read them when i'm upset? i sigh softly, reaching my locker and stuffing them away, except for one.</p><p>this one letter was my favorite. he went on a little ramble about his day, how beautiful a walk he went on was. i miss that... my soulmate was a lovely writer. not that it mattered anymore. my letter was left on read, and i'm pretty sure our connection would cut off soon enough.</p><p>with a soft sigh, i run my hand against the cold metal of my locker. it was covered in stickers and words written from my friends. small decorations littering the door of it, my fingers gently running over the contrasting textures. i just wanted to crawl inside my locker and wait the day out. in all honesty? i feel like shit. i press my back against the door, sliding down it and pulling my knees to my chest until i've become a little ball fading out in the hallway's chaos. a nothing in the crowd, but everything in my head. my thoughts picking me apart, judging me as i remain sedentary on the floor. the bustling grows quieter and quieter... until...</p><p>silence.</p><p>peaceful, torturous silence.</p><p>a calming presence interrupted with my own inner thoughts.</p><p>the time ticks by, silence occasionally being interrupted by the bell chiming. the first reminder i should be sitting in my class, muttering out a reply as the teacher takes absence. unfortunately i'm present. well, not now, at least.</p><p>the second bell chimes, the equivalent to someone yelling that i'm late to whatever class i'd begrudgingly attend. and yet, i'm not there. i'm phasing out of nothing and wishing i could disappear.</p><p>i slip in my headphones, leaning my head back until it hits the cool metal. i wonder if no one even notices. perhaps they just don't care enough.</p><p>maybe i would disappear. maybe i'd slowly rot away in this hallway, until i become nothing and no one. until it becomes uncommon for someone to acknowledge my presence.</p><p>maybe rantaro amami is already nothing. just a small thing in the grand scheme of it all. and honestly? i can't complain.</p><p>it would be so much easier to disappear. i wouldn't have to be a disappointment in my father's eyes, nor a failed brother figure to my sisters. instead, i become nothing, until they all slowly forget my name.</p><p>i hear footsteps approaching, and i cover my ears, praying the noise goes away. it all becomes too much for me, all of my senses scrambled and gone haywire.</p><p>they come to an abrupt stop, and i look up to see a familiar face. the same light skin, the same dark hair, the same sharp eyes.</p><p>"...rantaro?"</p><p>"kiyo-cha-- korekiyo?"</p><p>his eyebrows furrow, a mix of most likely concerned or worried. though, it's quite hard to tell with the mask. he crouches in front of me, still much taller in comparison. it's almost intimidating, though my senses are all over the place at the moment.</p><p>"are you okay? i noticed you weren't in class..."</p><p>i pause, trying to quickly think of a lie. but my tongue twists and words fall out almost involuntarily.</p><p>"...i fucked up so, so bad."</p><p>"how so?"</p><p>"my soulmate..." i chuckle sadly, looking down at my hands. "i was such an ass to him..."</p><p>kiyo slips down next to me, pressing his back against the locker. his bandaged hands rub my shoulder gently, a small attempt to soothe my nerves.</p><p>"rantaro, i am sure everything is just fine. if it helps... i recently got dumped by my soulmate. however... i believe i deserved it." he pauses, clearing his throat and regaining his composure. "no matter. i'm simply stating that you may talk to me, as i know quite a bit about ruining your connection with a soulmate."</p><p>"you... got dumped?"</p><p>"yes... i did."</p><p>i pause, clicking my tongue. "i... i dumped my soulmate last night."</p><p>the taller boy turns his head towards me, placing a dainty hand over his mouth, his eyebrows lifting up slightly. i bite my lip for a moment, before extending a small letter out to him.</p><p>"...is this yours, korekiyo?"</p><p>he gently runs his finger over the envelope, carefully examining it. he looks through the note, his pale complexion morphing into that of shock as he reads.</p><p>"...this is my handwriting..." he closes his eyes, crumpling up the letter into a pathetic little ball. he tosses it out into the hall, the wad of paper soon too far away for me to reach. "apologies... for being a bad soulmate."</p><p>"korekiyo, i'm sorry!! i... i didn't mean it..."</p><p>he interrupts me, speaking softly and looking down at his hands, "it's fine... i understand well... you said you had feelings for another, no? i could always help you get together with them."</p><p>"kiyo-chan... please don't be so dense..."</p><p>he tries to speak, but i slink down even more, stuffing my hands in my pockets and accepting the cold embrace of the hallway's floors.</p><p>"i love you, okay? why else would i give you my jacket, with my name written on the back? i want people to know you're mine... that i care for you, and that if anyone hurts you they'll need to watch out for me. that when i had a bad moment, i immediately went to you and asked to call again. i wanted to apologize, because i love hearing your voice, even if it's over a call. it's you, it was always you!!"</p><p>as i finish talking, i let out a small gasp for breath. the halls grow silent, however, it wasn't a comfortable silence like it used to be. it was a looming silence, a feeling that i had ruined everything once again.</p><p>"rantaro —"</p><p>"just forget it." i stand up, grabbing my bags and walking off, avoiding all eye contact. the bell rings and i continue to push past everyone, turning to look back at kiyo, still eyeing me in shock by my locker.</p><p>maybe he'll understand what it's like to disappear.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. ~a confession, kind of~</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>! korekiyo POV !</strong>
</p><p>"rantaro, please --"</p><p>the boy was already far from me, dashing past and shoving people away in the halls. no matter how hard i reached out to him, yearned for him, the crowd of people between us made a barrier. i felt small... gross... everyone bumping into me and touching me. every small shoulder bump or hand graze causing me to jump and jolt.</p><p>i'm sorry. i love you too.</p><p>i wanted so badly to reach out for his hand, to swirl the boy back around until he faced me. to mutter those words and to kiss him gently.<em> i'm sorry. i love you too. </em>i'm still wearing his jacket, the print on the back reading "amami" still. as if i'm his. amami's.</p><p>as if this jacket was a romantic gesture. the small way to tell everyone that i'm his, and only his. that he loves me, and i love him too. if he loved me, the scent would stay forever. cuddles from behind as i wear his jacket like a medal, his soft embrace enveloping me whole and making the jacket feel like home.</p><p>amami's.</p><p>however, the scent dies out, no longer being amami's jacket. rather what remains of him. it makes me feel small... all meaning and joy leaving the soft fabric.</p><p>i love you...</p><p>
  <em>i love you, i love you, i love you!!</em>
</p><p>i don't want to be hers, and only hers. i want to be <em>yours.</em></p><p>i want to feel the love in your touch. i don't want the feather-light, revolting touches i'm used to. the ones that make me want to cry and scream until i can't anymore. those cold, harsh hands that make me feel disgusting. i want the feeling of your warm hands interlocked in mine, gentle kisses, and kind smiles.</p><p>i start running as fast as i possibly can, with no real destination in sight. people cringe and murmur as i bump into them, their harsh words becoming nothing but white noise.</p><p>
  <em>"these are kind of like love letters, actually! isn't that so romantic?"</em>
</p><p>my head feels fuzzy and full, my footsteps growing loud and heavy as i continue to run, run, run...</p><p>
  <em>"not that i'd quite know anything about romance... but i'd say that these are really sweet!"</em>
</p><p>i finally free myself from the crowd, gasping for air as i reach a door in the hallway. i run my fingers against the door before shoving against it firmly and forcefully swinging it open.</p><p>
  <em>"that might just be me... who knows. maybe i'll surprise you with a romantic letter one day!"</em>
</p><p>that day had never arrived. i took for granted what i once had and now want it back desperately.</p><p>i run up the pair of stairs at the end of the door, panting and out of breath. i want fresh air. to breathe freely and let go.</p><p>
  <em>"xoxo, soulmate."</em>
</p><p>pushing open the door as hard as i can, i stumble forward, trying to catch myself. i stand on the roof of the school building, gazing over the scene beneath me. the faint noise of trees swaying, people conversing and enjoying themselves.</p><p>and then i meet someone's eyes.</p><p>the oh so familiar eyes in front of me, soft and emerald green. he sits down against one of the walls, breathing heavily as his eyelids flutter against his freckled cheeks.</p><p>"...rantaro?"</p><p>"i'm sorry..."</p><p>i crouch down to meet his eyes; they looked watery and rosy. his nose was a light red, apparent that he had been crying. he looked upset and helpless... and before i knew it, i held him steady in an embrace, hushing softly.</p><p>"...kore...kiyo...?"</p><p>"i'm sorry..."</p><p>i take a deep breath, embedding my face deeper into rantaro's shoulder.</p><p>"i love you too. i want to be yours. yours, yours, and only yours..."</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>they finally did it you guys !! maybe even a kiss if stell is feeling generous 'o'</b>
</p><p><b>anyways the sad times isn't quite over,,, just on pause</b> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. ~i'm sorry, i'll be home soon~</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"...w-what...?"</p><p>me? he loves <em>me</em>?</p><p>he holds me tight, tighter and closer until what lingers of my breath is faint gasps and whispers. not in an uncomfortable way... somewhat comforting. the kind of hug you'd never want to let go from—a hug where you want to nurture and worship the one trapped in your embrace. their warmth intertwined with yours, the melodious beating of another heart echoing throughout you. i stumble a little, holding the taller boy as much as i can endure until i lose my balance and slide back down the wall once more.</p><p>and yet, he doesn't let go.</p><p>he clings onto me as if i could disappear at any moment. as if within seconds, i'd be nothing but a phantom. i wonder why that is, why korekiyo shinguji lives his entire life as if it'll be gone in a flash. as if everyone in it will disappear. i lightly twirl my fingers through his hair, feeling a twinge of sorrow run through me.</p><p>"i love you..." he whispers, his voice growing hoarse. he softly recites these words, causing me to close my eyes and hold back tears.</p><p>i glance down to kiyo, seeing that tears pricked his eyes as well. glossy eyes meet mine, and before i knew it, i had crumbled into tears as well.</p><p>
  <em>i love you.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>i love you, i love you.</em>
</p><p>i felt complete. complete at long last. no more of chasing someone out of my reach. instead, the one i had been searching for my entire life rests comfortably in my arms. his heart now beating softly, tears falling onto my shirt and sinking deep into its fabric. though, the tears we shared weren't out of sorrow. they were happy, tears of <em>relief</em> even.</p><p>i don't want to let this moment die away. to become a memory. and yet, i break my silence, speaking softly and gently.</p><p>"i love you too... god, i love you... don't leave me, please."</p><p>he holds me closer, nodding slightly.</p><p>"i would never leave, not for the world, my dear... you know, i still carry our letters around. i never said anything... however, i agree. i agree that they're romantic. an expression of love and emotion conveyed through words. perhaps... that is my love language."</p><p>korekiyo hands me a small envelope, the writing familiar to me. jittery, curly, and a bit anxious. he clears his throat, speaking again.</p><p>"if you do not mind, i'd like to continue writing them for each other? apologies if it ruins the fun."</p><p>i give him a big grin, gently fiddling with his hoodie strings. i guess you could say it was mine; however, i think korekiyo's claimed his spot as the rightful owner.</p><p>"oh, i'd love that!" i giggle, looking down to face him. "it's still romantic, yknow? i love small things like that! expect quite the handful of surprises from me."</p><p>"surprises...?"</p><p>"mhm! if you don't mind... can we walk home together?"</p><p>"ah," he interrupts himself, taking a brief moment to ponder on my question. as if something or someone was holding him back. "i'd like that very much, yes. i could always drop you off at your house; however, i'm unable to stay over. i have quite the strict curfew."</p><p>"no worries at all! maybe sometime you could come over and meet my sisters? i'm sure they'd love you!"</p><p>we stand up, still clinging to each other. i keep a light hand in his jacket's pocket, and he wraps his arm around me.</p><p>"maybe another time, yes." he utters.</p><p>i feel soft buzzing from his phone, resting snugly in his jacket pocket.</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>bzz...</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>bzz...</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>gosh, whoever was texting him can't wait one second.</em>
</p><p><em>"</em>a-apologies." the taller boy starts walking fast, causing me to run in order to catch up with him. his face appears worried, almost uncomfortable to an extent.</p><p>i wanted to ask about it, and yet, i stay silent. the walk was quiet and peaceful... however, the worried expression remains plastered onto his face. he fidgets with strands of his ink-black hair, twirling it between his fingers. footsteps heavy and burdened.</p><p>"kiyo-chan... if you don't want to walk with me, that's alright. my house isn't far, i don't want to be a bother --"</p><p>i get cut off by soft lips against mine, gentle and careful. it was cute... but filled with a twinge of worry. korekiyo breaks away, staring into my eyes. his were glossy and tear-stained, filled with a thousand questions and no answers. i try to ask, only to be cut off by another kiss, frantic and desperate, a way to shut me up before i can begin.</p><p>"please..." i whisper, my voice raspy, "talk to me, i <em>beg</em>..."</p><p>"there isn't anything to say..." he attempts to pull me close, soon becoming blocked by my hand between our lips.</p><p>"something... anything... just tell me... why are you nervous? why can't you talk to me?"</p><p>another buzz from the phone, growing more intense. constant chimes and vibrations, a desperate plea for attention. the taller boy closes his eyes, turning more disturbed as the phone rings.</p><p>"...i'm so, so sorry..."</p><p>"sorry?"</p><p>he shoves me away, the impact causing me to fall to the bitter, hard ground. dashing away as fast as he can, he pulls out his phone. a feeble sound can be heard from his voice in the distance, saying a mere...</p><p>
  <em>"i'm so sorry, sister... i'll be home soon."</em>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. ~ you'll feel what i feel ~</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>! slight tw, me venting + a surprise some people guessed !</strong>
</p><p>running.</p><p>physically and metaphorically.</p><p>maybe it's a symbolism for me running away from my problems, leaving the sweetest boy alone in the dust. because how <em>dare</em> i find someone who makes me genuinely happy. there is no happiness for korekiyo shinguji.</p><p>i'm doomed to die alone. sister's, if you will. though, alone nonetheless. doomed to an eternity of biting my tongue and suffocating my words to show my worth. even the smallest praise.</p><p>
  <em>i'm proud of you.</em>
</p><p>how i yearned to hear those words. a little reminder that i matter. that someone is proud of me. and yet... nothing.</p><p>no one cares; no one's proud.</p><p>my feet slam heavily against the sidewalk, obviously burdened.</p><p>i'm sorry for being happy.</p><p>i was often told i didn't deserve that. my pleas and cries for someone to listen shooed away by her ice-cold words. instead, she talked about <em>her </em>issues and <em>her </em>problems. my problems were nothing compared to her's, after all. i could never understand or get those thoughts through my dumb little head. i'm just a stupid thing, only on this earth to serve her.</p><p>
  <em>i love you's don't suffice when your heart's filled with ice.</em>
</p><p>deep wounds covered by i love you. not i'm sorry, not i'll help you. a hollow i love you. one that often led to <em>me</em> apologizing for <em>your </em>mistakes. and at the time, it wasn't toxic in my eyes. i was inexperienced, and you were. so, of course, you know more than i do.</p><p>right?</p><p>it became my normal. concerned friends becoming blocked out by my own words. justifying that i knew nothing, it was fine. this is love. <em>this is love.</em></p><p>when your harsh words pierced my skin, and cold touch enveloped me like tar, i nodded along and apologized for you.</p><p><em>"you don't understand." </em>i'd say, <em>"she loves me, i know."</em></p><p>as if i didn't stay up every night for weeks on end worrying if you were okay, hell, if you were <em>alive.</em> as if i didn't pray to whatever was up there that you were safe and sound. because i loved you, i thought.</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>"i'm sorry..."</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>trailing up to the door of our home, i wait. i bite back my tears and take deep breaths.</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>"i'm sorry for not being good enough for you..."</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>if anything, i'm glad if you're worried. you'll experience what it feels to worry and fret to your core for once, and i'll be the one to wave it off.</p><p>
  <em>forget it. it's none of your business, anyways.</em>
</p><p>embedding the keys in the door, i turn it and gently open it.</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>"i'm sorry for being born. for my worthless, pitiful existence. and..."</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>the house was bleak, barren, and silent. a small surge of relaxation washes over me until a noise echoes throughout the halls, making me jump. a yell, a broken glass, slamming of doors. god, have mercy on my miserable disposition.</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>"and i vow to be yours. until my existence is ripped from my revolting hands, i'm yours."</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>the noises grow closer, like a pitch-black shadow devouring light in its grasp. light and comfort slowly being dragged away by darkness. until all that survives is a crumbled shard of what once was.</p><p>maybe i asked for this. by the minute i made my vow, i had become a prisoner to this darkness. bound to an eternity of darkness.</p><p>"where were you?"</p><p>"i'm sorry. i was with a friend... please don't be mad. i won't see him again."</p><p>how come you were allowed to have friends, to have other lovers, and yet i couldn't? that it was only wrong when <em>i</em> did it? why did the world make excuses for you, as if you were a deity, holy and ethereal, above my pitiful form? no matter what, i always got the short end of the stick, a pathetic crumb of peace for my miserable existence. and <em>you </em>got off scot-free.</p><p>"so you're betraying me now? i expected better from you... do you not have a single shred of compassion for your withering sister? who gave you everything?"</p><p>
  <em>i want you dead.</em>
</p><p>"i love you, don't leave." i grit through my pitiful, disgusting teeth. sister often told me they were terrible, that my smile was hideous and should be hidden behind a mask. because god have mercy on the wretched soul who had to look at my smile.</p><p>
  <em>don't smile. hide your emotions. no one wants to see that.</em>
</p><p>"liar. you speak lies, korekiyo. why won't you let me be happy for once?"</p><p>"...shut up."</p><p>"...<em>excuse me</em>?"</p><p>i step forward, hitting her as hard as my weak hands possibly can. she falters, staying still. the same painful feeling i grew so used to.</p><p>"shut up!! SHUT UP!!! it's always <em>you! </em>i gave <em>you</em> everything!! why can't i be happy?! why can't i have <em>one</em> friend?! one person who loves me?!"</p><p>"you watch your repulsive mouth." she spits, stepping forward. "i love you, why don't you love me?! one day, i'll be dead, and it'll be your fault. i gave you a chance, be thankful i didn't leave your worthless existence to rot away in the road. and you have the audacity to repay me like this?"</p><p>i take a deep breath, shoving past her. my head felt so full, i wanted to scream, and yell. you ruined me... you ruined me!! <em>this is your fault!!!</em></p><p>"yes, sister. it will be my fault. but in reality... this is your fault."</p><p>i open one of the cabinets, running my hand over a familiar, cool knife. the tip was stained crimson, a sickening reminder of what i've done, what she caused.</p><p>she steps forward, her eyes filled with hatred. "if you even <em>think</em> of stepping towards me, it'll be the last thing you ever do!! if that knife ends up near me, instead of plunged into your friend, who you care about so much more than me, you'll regret it!!"</p><p>"regret?! i've grown so used to regret, you forced me to regret, regret, regret. to despise the person i've become. well, guess what?!"</p><p>i step closer, taking a deep breath.</p><p>
  <em>75, 80, 85...</em>
</p><p><em>"</em>it's my turn to be happy. to be <em>free</em>."</p><p>
  <em>90, 95, 99...</em>
</p><p>"...it's your turn to feel what i feel."</p><p>...</p><p>
  <em>.........</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>100.</em>
  </strong>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. ~ the pathetic puppet show ~</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>! rantaro POV/korekiyo later !</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>thisll be a long chapter,,, so i'll be splitting it in half by using ***; hope it makes sense 'o'</strong>
</p><p>again.</p><p>he left me <em>again.</em></p><p>left me to feel like i'm nothing in the crowd, just a measly thing that can be abandoned in a second.<em> it's fine, not like i cared or anything. </em>it's not like you made me feel like the most special boy in the universe before tossing me aside like a toy you grew tired of. like a puppet bearing its strings to you, watching helplessly as you strike the strands with a pair of razor-sharp scissors. unable to be commanded, it lies worthless on the ground. so reliant on others, the feeble-minded doll rests used and destroyed, depending so much on others that it kills the poor thing.</p><p>and here i lay, on the ground.</p><p>a dumb puppet without its strings.</p><p>i stand up, brushing myself off. i feel used, alone, scared... it's fine. maybe i was destined to be used; maybe this is the universe striking me through the heart with well-deserved karma. as I walk blocks to my house, my feet drag along the sidewalk as if 200-pound weights had been attached. it burdens me, the weight of everything becoming too much. how badly i want to collapse to the side of the road, bawling my eyes out over someone who couldn't care less about me. and yet, i haul along.</p><p>the sun starts to set, the dull glow illuminating the street around me. i wonder if kiyo is gazing out his window, cherishing the beauty of the creeping twilight and separation of day. maybe he's daydreaming... dreaming of watching the sunset with me, gently holding my hand in his. realistically, i acknowledge where i stand. but... i can only dream...</p><p>i reach my house, opening the door, and stepping inside. the door was never locked, my sisters always forgot, and my dad never bothered. and my stepmom, or step<em>moms</em>, god knew where they were or what they were doing.</p><p>"ran!! you're home!!" my youngest sister clings to my arm, giggling and bouncing eagerly on the balls of her feet. she begins to ramble about her day, tugging on my hand. i force a smile, lying and informing her that i was busy with work and could not play games with her tonight. yes, it was an asshole move... but i felt exhausted, as if i was forced to run a marathon after not sleeping for months. as if my heart had been shredded to bits.</p><p>i keep the smile alive before locking my bedroom door and crumpling into my bed, unable to restrain an outpouring river of tears tumbling down my cheeks.</p><p>with trembling, unsure hands, i reach for my phone, biting my lip.</p><p>...</p><p>
  <em>.....</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>'please... please don't leave me on read right now.'</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>...what am i <em>doing?</em></p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>'i don't want to be alone. am i doing something wrong? i'm sorry... i want to be of use to you. i want to feel loved, to love. i want to give you all the love i never could...'</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>unsend, delete, destroy.</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>'i can't do that if you don't let me, kiyo. i can't be in your life if you won't let me be in it. please... as a friend, as whatever in god's name we are now, let me care for you.'</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>...</p><p>.......</p><p>...........</p><p>for once, i had seen something i had never seen before.</p><p>
  <em>kiyo~chan !! is typing...</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>kiyo~chan !!: '... i need help, rantaro. lord, plead for my horrid existence, i need help...'</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>'come over. rn.'</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>***</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>! korekiyo POV !</strong>
</p><p>i drop my phone, holding my head. the screen splinters and shatters as it drops to the ground, shards resting by the corpse of what once was a living, revolting human being. the knife had been washed, as it had been so many times before, every finger print and crimson drop now washed away in soapy water. swirling away into a drain, never seen again. it's insane how quickly life can drain, isn't it?</p><p>"...what in heavens have i done..."</p><p>i grab ahold of my phone once again, pocketing it and dashing out of my home. realistically, i know no one would search for her. my house appears abandoned, a terrifying hellhole of shattered dreams. that i could get away scot-free. and yet...</p><p>yet i have the urge to tell him. the urge whispers in my ears, sending chills down my spine. i worried the poor boy senseless, leaving him alone on multiple occasions. i need to be honest...</p><p>for once in my life, i must be transparent.</p><p>i shove my door open, running, running, running... recollecting my path to the emerald-haired boy's house.</p><p>
  <em>i'm sorry i wasn't honest enough with you...</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>***</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>! rantaro POV !</strong>
</p><p>wiping my tears away, i prepare myself. i gaze into my mirror, black eyeliner smudged somewhat underneath my eyes, as if i hadn't slept in ages. my cheeks were blissed and rosy, already chubby cheeks grown puffy from tears. a pair of grey sweatpants adorned with a flannel button-up, slightly unbuttoned and slipping off my freckle-dusted shoulder. i looked worn yet snug.</p><p>i hear a faint tapping at my window, opening it to meet a familiar pair of golden eyes. they looked hollow, empty... as if he had witnessed all of humanity's tragedies unfold in front of him. i reach out to his slender hands and pull him up, the usual bandages discarded. rather, his bare hand was seen, thin and white, littered in pinkish scars. some were little and mended; others were deep and fresh. i let go, only to be yanked back forward into a hug.</p><p>the hug was desperate, needy, and troubled; as if the poor boy in my arms had never been hugged in his life.</p><p>"...what's wrong? please...<em> talk to me</em>..."</p><p>the taller boy weeps into my shoulder, grasping on tighter. he looked so vulnerable... afraid...</p><p>
  <em>a puppet without its strings.</em>
</p><p>he speaks for a moment, a whisper of a voice gradually dying in his throat.</p><p>"...i must confess."</p><p>...</p><p>
  <em>..........</em>
</p><p>"i, korekiyo shinguji, am a cold-hearted killer."</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. ~ until we meet again, my dear ~</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>
    <span>! rantaro pov ! (will switch to multiple!)</span>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <span>"...a k-killer? kiyo... this isn't funny... this isn't funny..."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>i bury my face into his shoulder, grasping onto it. weeping into the shoulder of a man who's killed someone -- hell, maybe even </span>
  <em>
    <span>many </span>
  </em>
  <span>someones. the same man who kissed me oh so delicately, as if he had been an angel, pure and dainty. soft hands that caressed me gently, once blood-stained and crimson.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"i'm sorry... i'm so sorry....."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"don't apologize... tell me the truth. no more bullshit lies, just the truth. i have the right to know, please..."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>he bites his lip, squeezing me tighter. a mix of tension and yearning fills me inside, wanting so badly to hold the arms that could end me in an instant. korekiyo rips off his mask, smudged lipstick and tear stains now prominent. i assumed i'd find an insatiable grin, psychopathic and lust-stained. and yet... i found none of it. he looked petrified as if he had no choice. i wanted so severely to shred that brain apart, to interrogate him. to shatter the glass barrier he puts up. i want to hear the clicking of cogs rolling and churning inside of him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>i want to talk to him. to you.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>"...there's nothing to say --"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"shut up. right now." i grasp his collar, pent-up frustration precipitating from inside my skin. "there's so much to say, korekiyo!! you leave me by myself constantly, abandon me on my walk home, climb through my window and tell me you killed someone, then tell me there's nothing to fucking say?! i want to know the truth, or get the hell out."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>kiyo's words appear to die in his throat, his hands quivering slightly as he nods.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"...alright. i'll tell you everything..."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>
    <span>***</span>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <span>! korekiyo POV !</span>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <span>"..."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"..."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>the boy in front of me sits there in stunned silence, not being able to comprehend the string of words i released from its cage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"...and she was one hundred, exactly."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"...o-one hundred...?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>the smaller boy sits on his bed, pulling his knees up to his chest. the light fairy lanterns illuminate his eyes, a fear-stricken expression still appearing soft and sweet. as if i scared a precious thing to its core. though he didn't seem </span>
  <em>
    <span>scared.</span>
  </em>
  <span> more like nervous comprehension. he didn't seem appalled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"...i should leave, shouldn't i --?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>he flings himself into my arms, tugging me forward onto the bed until i rest beside him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"please... please stay... what if someone finds you? or finds your sister??"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>i kiss his face softly, kissing away tears, kissing away worries. i kiss his hands, the tips of them covered in smudged mascara. the same hands used to wipe away tears that i had caused. the same hands that held my disgusting, ruined hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"...kiyo-chan... you have that look in your eyes again... talk to me... oh god, </span>
  <em>
    <span>please</span>
  </em>
  <span> talk to me.... i can't stand this barrier between us, please, please, please..."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"...how are you still here...? i told you the truth... and you aren't appalled... you still care, you still let my revolting body wreck yours... you're a temple, amami... i've ruined you...."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"don't say that, i'm not a child. i'm not some holy being. i'm human... as are you...."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>we cling onto each other, both weeping and grasping onto whatever part of each other we can. as if its our last moments on earth together. as if we're doomed to disappear. except for me, i know that's correct. that the skeletons in my closet will eventually decay and expose themselves to the world. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>slowly but surely, we slip into slumber...</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>
    <span>***</span>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <span>! rantaro POV !</span>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <span>i rub my eyes, stretching my arms a bit and pulling the covers over myself. they were soft, comforting... how badly i needed comfort right now... how badly i need kiyo...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>......</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>kiyo...?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>i shoot up, awake and alert. the warm, comforting presence entangled in my arms, now gone without a trace. as if he was never there at all, the only exception being a tear-stained pillow and the faint smell of old books and lavender.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"kiyo?! please... this isn't fucking funny!!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>i stumble out of bed, looking to my phone and finding one notification left on its screen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>ping!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>
      <span>one new message from your soulmate!</span>
    </em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <span>i scramble to the letter, reading over it. the writing wasn't as precise as it always was; rather, it appears to be written in a hurry. as if he had limited time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>with anxious hands, i open the letter...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>....</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>
      <span>"dear rantaro amami, the love of my life,</span>
    </em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>
      <span>i'm sorry, i can't live a lie anymore. i can't continue my existence with this secret. i wish to be the one in power and in control of this secret, rather than letting it get out by itself. i'm sorry for abandoning you, i'm sorry for lying, i'm sorry for everything. </span>
    </em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>
      <span>i'm sorry that you had to be my soulmate.</span>
    </em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>
      <span>i still wish to write to you every day, is that alright? however... i hope you will move on. this soulmate arrangement doesn't need to confine you, my darling. you're capable of so much more; you deserve freedom.</span>
    </em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>
      <span>i'll never forget your embrace, your delicacy and care when handling me. you made me feel the love i could never experience.</span>
    </em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>
      <span>you gave me happiness, and that's all that matters. that's all i need before i say goodbye.</span>
    </em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>
      <span>i won't be dying, i pray. maybe one day. perhaps the death penalty will grasp me with its dark hands of fate. however, until then, i will write with care and love to you.</span>
    </em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>
      <span>until we meet again, my dear.</span>
    </em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>
      <span>korekiyo shinguji, your soulmate."</span>
    </em>
  </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>
    <span>***</span>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <span>! no one POV !</span>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>korekiyo shinguji.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>the name grew famous within the walls of hope's peak academy. the boy who had turned himself in to the police for the crimes against 100 women. who admitted his guilty conscience with tear-stained eyes and shaky hands. many speculated that it was never his fault, that he had been forced to by an outside source. and as for rantaro amami, he continued to show up to school. any break he got, he wrote a plethora of letters. desperate for contact, he told the boy everything about his day. the good, the bad, all of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "until we meet again..."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>he repeats these words every day, as he runs his fingers over the cold metal of the locket given to him by his doomed soulmate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"until we meet again, my dear..."</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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